Some Things You Learn
by fireweed15
Summary: There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm. – Willa Cather / Devon's car breaks down in the middle of nowhere—with Bonnie in the passenger seat and the area receiving its worst thunderstorm in decades.


One of the things that set Bonnie Barstow apart from other women was that she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, which no doubt stemmed from and helped her in her work. Thus, despite wearing a nice pair of khakis and a blouse, she was kneeling by the deflated rear left tire of the vehicle, inspecting the damage.

Her travel companion, not to mention the vehicle's owner, dropped down into a crouch next to her. "What's the damage?"

Bonnie held up a fragment of clear brown glass. "Looks like we ran over some broken glass," she announced with a humorless smile. "This is the biggest piece, and there are fragments in the tire." The pair stood. "It's a pretty easy fix, actually—give me a spare, a jack and ten minutes tops." She tipped her head back slightly and looked at the ugly grey clouds massing overhead. Ten minutes could very well be all they had at this rate.

She looked back to Devon, and found that he hadn't moved, or produced the spare or the jack. "You do have a spare tire at least, right?" It was a question asked out of necessity, but also out of concern for his inaction.

"At the garage at the Foundation, yes." To the untrained ear, Devon sounded like he was noting that the weather was taking a turn for the dark.

Bonnie, however, knew his subtleties, and the statement had an implied _I'm afraid it's_ at the start. All she could do was stare at him for several moments. "Who in the hell drives without a spare ti—y'know what? Don't even answer that." A small part of her was bothered by the sharp tone she had taken with him; she would have apologized, but she had more pressing matters on her mind.

Devon looked up and down the stretch of country road. "I'm sure someone will drive by sooner or later," he told her reasonably.

Bonnie quirked an eyebrow in reply. "The last car we saw was a Ford 1953 pickup," she reminded. "It was rusted out by the side of the road, and that was five miles ago."

Devon's silence was his way of conceding the point; Bonnie rubbed her temples. The air was heavy with a pending rainstorm and a sort of electrical charge she was starting to dread. Her mood didn't improve when the rain finally started to pour, if her muttered cursing as she and Devon rushed to get back in the immobile vehicle were any indication.

Left with no other options, Devon contacted Michael and KITT at the Foundation, while Bonnie climbed into the backseat to… it looked like sulk, from Devon's rearview mirror observations as he hung up the car phone. "They'll be here in short order," he told her, still watching her in the rearview mirror.

"Great," Bonnie replied, squeezing the rainwater from her hair. "God, I hate relying on that yo-yo." She shook the water from her hands.

Devon held his tongue at that. It was true, there was little love lost between Bonnie and Michael, but normally she wasn't this… catty. He chose his next words very carefully: "Are you feeling well, Bonnie?"

She looked away from the car window to glance at him. "Hmm? What was that, Devon?"

"Are you feeling well?" he repeated. "You've been… in a foul mood since lunchtime."

"Stress," she easily replied, looking up at the sky again. The clouds were growing darker and were still pouring rain. "I hate meeting family for anything."

Again, Devon held his tongue. Bonnie's relations with her family were tense, he was fully aware, and he had been treated to it when Bonnie asked him to attend a Barstow family luncheon, but he didn't see how the two hours they'd spent with her family could get her this irritated. Something didn't measure up, but what—

"I'm going to try to get some sleep," Bonnie announced, lying down on the backseat. "Wake me when KITT and the yo-yo show up?" The way she said it made it clear that she wasn't taking anything other than an afternoon nap for an answer.

"Of course, Bonnie," he replied. "Sleep well."

Sleep well was a very person-specific phrase—what constituted a good night's sleep for some was holy hell for others. In this case, Devon was able to drift off sitting up in the driver's seat, the pouring rain outside a pleasant sort of white noise. Even the rumble of thunder overhead didn't seem to bother him.

Bonnie on the other hand…

It was a cry from the backseat that woke him up, a sort of strangled, panicked yelp. For a moment, Devon looked around himself, utterly confused, before he remembered where he was and why. Then he remembered Bonnie in the backseat and turned around to see what had made her cry out.

She was curled into herself, arms crossed tightly across her chest as though she were trying to give herself a bear hug, and shaking. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut and she was moaning softly. There was a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder; she curled into a tighter ball and cried out again, sounding almost sick with fear.

"Bonnie." Devon reached around the seat and patted her knee. "Bonnie?"

She looked up as she heard her name, and stared at Devon as though she didn't recognize him for a moment. She mumbled an apology and sat up, her hands shaking. Another flash of lightning and rumble of thunder, and she doubled over with another pained cry, clamping her hands over ears and rocking herself.

Devon had never seen her so terrified, and that bothered him more than anything else. He wished he could have climbed over the center console to get to the back seat to sit with her, but knew trying wasn't going to do him much good; he opted for the roundabout method, getting out the car and being soaked through to the Oxford shirt in the storm to open the back seat.

Or try to at least, given that Bonnie had locked the doors. Resisting the urge to curse, Devon rapped on the glass to catch her attention. Through the rivulets on the glass, he could see her jump slightly, then lean over and open the door. And not a moment too soon, considering that the rain was starting to soak through to the skin now and was dripping from his hair and into his eyes.

Still, there were more important matters at hand. Devon scooted closer to Bonnie on the seat, nearly sitting hip to hip with her, slipped out of the wet suit jacket and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Bonnie, what's the matter?" he asked, gently squeezing her shoulders.

"N-Nothing," she managed, sitting up. "I'm fine, Devon—really." She offered him a smile, but the fact that it didn't reach her eyes was a dead giveaway that it was a lie; if that alone wasn't enough, her trembling frame and tear-stained face certainly should have been a sign.

The thunder rumbled again, this time sounding as though it were directly overhead. Bonnie cried out again, doubling over and moaning. "Bonnie, listen to me," Devon said, gentle but firm, "what's wrong?" It took a little effort, and he was honestly expecting her to punch him for it, but he started to guide her into an upright position.

She didn't resist; in fact, she sat upright and wilted against him, laying her head on his shoulder and hugging herself. Devon didn't try to reject the contact; if it made her feel better, fine. "What's the matter?" he whispered. He could only hope she wasn't sick.

"It's silly," Bonnie mumbled, running a hand through her hair and looking almost distrustfully out the window.

For a moment, Devon didn't follow, but then it clicked—"You're afraid of the storm?"

Bonnie nodded, almost embarrassed. "I'm terrified of thunder," she admitted, unable to look him in the eye. She jumped at the sudden rumble of thunder, hiding her eyes in his shirtsleeve.

Devon wrapped his arms around her, loosely should she start to feel claustrophobic, and thought for a moment. Her short temper before the storm broke; looking out the windows before the thunder had started; even before all that, her family had mentioned the weather was supposed to take a turn for the nasty that afternoon—and that was at lunch, when her mood had started to go south. Of course, now it all made sense.

Bonnie's behavior, and her suggestion after lunch that they get a hotel, wait until tomorrow to head back. Devon felt badly for saying they should try to get to the Foundation before the storm broke—her wanting to be in a hotel made sense. At least in a hotel they were in a building, where she presumably felt safer.

Bonnie groaned faintly. "God, I feel sick…"

"Will you be alright?" Devon asked softly, rubbing her arm.

"I won't throw up if that's what you mean," Bonnie replied, looking up at him. "God, I just—I hate being like this." She laid her head on Devon's shoulder again. "I've always been afraid of thunder, ever since I was little…"

She chuckled humorlessly and glanced up at Devon. "When I was little, I'd crawl into bed with my parents when there was a storm. Then when I got older, I'd cover myself up with my blankets and try to pretend everything's going to be okay…"

Devon kept one arm around her shoulders, idly stroking her arm in something resembling a comforting gesture, his other hand taking up his discarded suit jacket. It was still damp, but the inner lining was dry, and that was all about which he was really concerned at the moment. Still trying to keep an arm around her shoulders, Devon took up the jacket and draped it over her, making it a point to keep her head shrouded.

Bonnie gave a little noise of surprise and lifted the jacket slightly, looking up at him in confusion. He didn't say anything, but smiled slightly and leaned down to brush a kiss, very briefly, against her forehead. She smiled gratefully as he pulled away and laid her head on his shoulder once more, covering her head with his jacket again.

It was probably going to be a while before Michael and KITT arrived, and even then the storm was going to be a long one. Somehow, they both got the impression that neither party minded as much as they did fifteen minutes ago.


End file.
